


some of them want to get used by you

by song_of_staying



Series: because you're mine [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Boot Worship, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, Ironic Housewife Routine, Manipulation, Mind Control, Slavery, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-10 00:18:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12287262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/song_of_staying/pseuds/song_of_staying
Summary: Captain Mindfang acquires a human slave.





	some of them want to get used by you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [May](https://archiveofourown.org/users/May/gifts).



Humans are no good for drawing Orphaner’s attention, but they do have virtues of their own.

Mindfang likes to show her new slaves their place as soon as she takes possession of them, but Jack is an unworthy audience for it. He is always so detached - it’s disgusting! Why did he become a tradesman, if he doesn’t care to see his wares enjoyed the way they should be? Right now, he is holding back a yawn. His mind is filled with images of the human he kept for his own use. Such humdrum use it is too.

Once he leaves her ship, Mindfang turns to her new human, and frees her mouth and unshackles her. She takes the dirty blindfold off too, what's the use of that thing anyway? The slave has eyes of a beautiful sunrise color, and lips that taste like well-aged wine. She is thinking so many things at once that Mindfang cannot fathom all of it, not even during the kiss.

When Mindfang takes hold of her legs, the human cooperates. When they reach the bottom of the stairs, the human stumbles, purposefully, disorienting Mindfang for a second.

“What a clumsy animal,” Mindfang coos. The human hasn’t stood up yet, so Mindfang decides to make her crawl.

“Haven’t found my sea legs yet,” the human says. Her Alternian is harsh but grammatically correct. Mindfang can teach her a gentler cadence later. “It is easier to move like this, thank you.”

An insult or an attempt at manipulation? It is difficult to read her true intent, beyond a few layers of sincere gratitude. She wants to crawl, and so she will. Mindfang makes her press her palms against the floorboards with painful force. This elicits no response.

It takes all of Mindfang's concentration to find the spark of fear under a thousand other thoughts - recent memories, dull scientific calculations. The crux of the slave's fear is shaped like another human - this one is small and hidden in shadows. If Mindfang can find a way to drag the memory into the light, she’ll know exactly how to break her new acquisition.

That memory dissipates, replaced by lewd reminiscing of the ship the human had come from… her species is frisky, when they’re left to their own devices.

They reach Mindfang’s cabin, and Mindfang directs her slave to the middle of the room. There will be time enough later to find her greatest fear. Giving her some new ones sounds just as sweet.

“Mistress,” the human says. Her voice is deep and steady. “Is it okay if I clean your boots?”

“Why?”

“You have such a beautiful room. I’d like to keep it clean for you.”

It _is_ a beautiful room, but would a human really think so? Slaves have no appreciation for weapons or for treasure. More manipulation!

Mindfang presses the slave’s face against the carpet. She makes her unable to take a breath, two breaths, and then makes her press her own long pink nails into her palms. It’s a point, efficiently made, Mindfang thinks, and now they can move on to more pleasant things.

“Please?” The human sounds calm, even now. Mindfang must be getting tired, because the slave’s thoughts are becoming even less readable. “Please, can I use my mouth to clean your boots?”

So pushy. “Fine! But you better impress me, then.”

The human has a small pink tongue, rounded and alien, and she leaves it on display, just for a moment, before running it along the rim of Mindfang’s boot. Isn’t she disgusted by that? The ogre-hide must taste of salt, Mindfang thinks, and it must be filthy as well. Do humans have a sense of smell?

Mindfang’s human tilts her head to the side, and her hair falls all around her face. It is so much like spidersilk. It is less sticky to the touch, though. Mindfang steals some strands of it, and the human shows no sign of pain or surprise. Just how much pain can she take before she makes a noise? What kind of pain does she fear most? The information isn’t there. All Mindfang can read from her mind is that the human likes the sensation of stabbing through soft tissue. But that’s just natural!

The human licks the boot quickly, neatly, and it really should be boring, but then she grabs Mindfang’s ankle - who allowed that? - and lifts her foot up. It’s awkward, standing on one leg like a droid or a wading bird, but the human licks the sole of Mindfang’s boot, and presses her face against it. Leaves a kiss there.

Not even the sauciest maid does things like that, and Mindfang’s kidnapped and discarded enough saucy maids to know. Butlers, too.

Without lifting her mouth away, the human reaches for the sole, attacks it with her nails - they’re almost claws, almost respectable - and cleans the dirt out of the grooves. It is fascinating, and awkward, and Mindfang feels directionless.

She presses her foot against the human’s chest. She lets the human see a scenario she’s been considering: a direct kick, hard enough to shatter.

The human counters with a memory of her own, featuring an olive-blood with crooked horns. A low-ceilinged room, a cold floor. The human was curled on her side, protecting her head. The olive-blood had cheap boots, and spat insults in a crass low dialect. It isn’t a welcome image, and Mindfang yanks her foot away. It’s downright rude to bring up previous owners like that! Especially pathetic green slugs that Mindfang could kill without breaking sweat.

As if she’s a telepath as well, the human’s thoughts turn to Mindfang now, and she imagines Mindfang kicking her face in, ruining her pretty, fangless smile. The image is almost realistic. The fear that comes with it feels almost like a concession.

“You’re a brazen piece of shit,” Mindfang mutters.

“Please, mistress,” says the human. “The last thing I want to do is offend.”

“And what’s the first thing you want to do?”

“Take your boots off. If you allow it.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I will still do my best to clean them.”

She kisses Mindfang’s instep, and Mindfang can’t feel anything over the leather.

“Fine!” Mindfang stalks over to her bed, sits down, spreads her knees wide and leans back on her elbows. “You’ll be undressing me soon enough.”

All the human does is smile again. When Mindfang beats her one day, she’ll be careful to keep all those useless teeth intact.

The cleaned boot slips off easily, and the human stashes it under the bed. Mindfang has fine stockings, midnight-blue ones she took off of a duke. They’re frayed in places, and worn thin on her sole. They haven’t been washed since she got rid of her last slave, half a sweep ago.

Mindfang’s new human takes her foot, and with exaggerated gentleness kisses her toes, then sucks on them, as though working on a bulge of unusual shape. Her tongue is very warm on the frayed places where it touches skin. If the untended claws on Mindfang’s foot gave her pause, she doesn’t show it. Her mind feels cool and impenetrable, like smooth stone.

“Mistress?” she sounds _cheerful_ , Mindfang thinks. Such an odd creature. “May I move on to your other boot?”

“You may.” Why not, after all? It’s always good to be benevolent at first.

It is easy to relax while being serviced like this. Mindfang lies back on crossed arms and closes her eyes. The human is using her hands now - working up and down Mindfang’s shins, working out knots in the muscle there. She won’t dare stop, surely, until Mindfang says so. And she will not dare attack.

Mindfang wakes up to cold feet and an empty cabin. The slave can’t have escaped, not unless she decided to jump off-board. But if she had meant to end her life tonight, Mindfang would have sensed her intent. Surely, she would have.

The ungrateful cur must be hiding somewhere on deck. If any of Mindfang’s crew are hiding her, she will make sure to make an example of them, and then show even less mercy to the slave.

Mindfang hears a noise coming from her own bathroom. Singing! Not particularly melodious and not particularly quiet. She finds her slave sitting in her tub, an empty bucket beside her. It isn’t Mindfang’s concupiscent bucket, but did the slave even know that?

Her hair is much smaller when it’s wet, and her smile seems sharper now.

“Mistress! I’m so glad you’re awake.” Even that obvious lie doesn’t feel like one in her mind. “Which of these scents is your favorite?”

“Those are mine,” Mindfang says, coldly. “How dare you?”

“I thought it would please you,” says the human. Truth. “When you touch me, you deserve to have me clean.”

“I will have you however I want you.”

“Of course you will, dear Mistress. Should I roll around in the dirt again?”

The image Mindfang is shows is of the human herself, naked and sun-lit, rolling around in some alien forest. The dust covering her skin makes it look nearly normal.

“You should come here,” Mindfang says, and the threat in it is obvious. She is obeyed immediately - the human doesn’t even stop to dry off.

“You don’t presume to touch my property,” Mindfang says, and steps on the slave’s hand. It would work better if she had her boots on, but they’re not too far - she could retrieve them still.

“Of course,” says Mindfang’s slave. She fears having her hand broken, but Mindfang can't see beyond that. “I won't even touch myself, if you command it. But all I wanted was to make things easier for you.”

“Easier.”

“Yes. You know I want to make you happy.” It shines through her thoughts, equally true on every level of her intricate mind. She wants Mindfang to be happy. Relaxed, amused, merciful.

“Don’t disobey me, then.”

The slave shakes her head. “I won’t.”

Well, and she hasn’t, yet. Not any explicit orders, anyway.

“If you let me take care of small things - like myself, like your room and clothes - you will be happier. I hope you will let me do that one day.”

From a proper troll, it would have been a pale offer. Mindfang doesn’t know what this is.

“Well,” she says, floundering. She hates feeling awkward, hates it! “Prove your worth to me first.”

“Mistress, that’s all I ever wanted to do.” The slave reaches up to undress her, and her smile feels truer than ever.


End file.
